Space Race
by A Ceramic Girl
Summary: It was understandable why they were all there, though few of them wanted to be. No one was hiding the fact that the perfect attendance was mainly because they'd been unable to come to a consensus as to whether the "Star Wars marathon tomorrow night, or I'm kicking you all out." comment was to be taken seriously or not. One-shot SteveTasha.


It was understandable why they were all there, though few of them wanted to be. No one was hiding the fact that the perfect attendance was mainly because they'd been unable to come to a consensus as to whether the "Star Wars marathon tomorrow night, or I'm kicking you all out." comment was to be taken seriously or not. And, well, it _was_ Tony's house (if you could call a skyscraper a house) so he got to make the rules.  
And if realizing that one of them had been in a coma during one of the biggest modern pop culture phenomenons meant they were going to watch them all in one night under threat of homelessness, well, that's what they were going to do.

"Are they really that good?" Steve asked, disbelieving and unwilling to sacrifice any ground to their host. "They're movies."

Tony opened his mouth in what was sure to be an eloquent soliloquy, but was interrupted before he even began.

"Some people like them," Natasha replied in a mild tone "I don't."  
Clint, seated next to her on the long couch, turned to regard his companion with an expression of quiet surprise, shrugged, and faced the enormous screen once more.

Tony's reaction was sharper.  
"You can leave. The door is that way."

His response to this apparent crime would probably have been much longer had he not suddenly been distracted by a sharp jab to the ribs, courtesy of Pepper en route to the couch.

"I've honestly never seen them either, so your guess is as good as mine, Steve."

Tony whirled in horror to face Bruce, snug in the couch corner opposite of everyone.

"_He_ has an excuse but—"

"Shut up and play the movie, Stark," Clint said loudly, tired of the squabbling.

Steve sat down in the exact middle of the couch, between Natasha on one hand, and an uncharacteristically silent Thor on the other.

As soon as he was seated, he heard the Asgardian speak to him in a stage whisper.  
"Do you believe we shall witness any of my kingdom's battles in this film, Captain?"

Ah. That was it.

"I…highly doubt it." Was Steve's response — a reassuring one he hoped.

Thor gave him a brisk nod, and busied himself with the popcorn. Thor enjoyed movies a lot, but they knew he never exactly got over how what was fact on Asgard was legend on earth.  
He liked to be prepared for such things, and often asked if he should brace himself to see a portrayal of his life presented as fiction.

Once they were all seated on the long couch, the lights dimmed and the screen lit with scrolling text.

"A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away—" Tony recited in a theatrical tone.  
The glib response came from Steve's right.

"If you narrate this entire movie you'd better be prepared to be killed in your sleep."

Steve looked to the assassins. Clint was attentive and relaxed, smiling at the fierce comment from his friend presented in such a reasonable tone.  
Natasha had sunk into the cushions, legs tucked up close and head tilted to one side.  
She looked resigned to her fate to watch the movies — but evidently wouldn't stand for any further demonstration of their content.

It was nice, actually. To have all of them — thrown together by circumstance and SHIELD — be in each other's company without worrying about anything but spilling their drinks, or fictional troubles experienced by imagined people playing out their lives for entertainment.

At least, that's how Steve felt.

Natasha was clearly unimpressed; a fact she made public knowledge by falling asleep.

Steve noticed when he felt her against his shoulder; and looked down to find her leaned against him, looking serene but for the smooshed quality of her features as they pressed against his arm. He slouched a little to lessen the steep angle she was in.

The others noticed when Thor returned from refilling his drink and flopped back down on the couch; the weight causing Natasha to slide onto Steve's chest.

Clint cast a quick glare at Thor for the wave of movement, and chuckled when his eyes fell on an embarrassed Steve.

Tony leaned forward at the noise, and performed some eyebrow acrobatics in their direction.  
The rest gave varying types of smiles; polite, touched, pleased.

Steve rolled his eyes, and kept his breathing shallow. There was no way for him to move without disrupting her completely.  
After a while she sighed, and shifted. She had formerly been hugging herself tightly, but now stretched an arm across his chest in a possessive manner.  
Now he _really_ couldn't move.

He spent the rest of the movies paying them half his attention, and wondering what he would do when they finished.

He had no answer when they did, and the others just laughed at his pleading looks.  
The rest of the team began to clear away the remains of their movie snacks as the lights gradually brightened, leaving Steve on the couch with Tasha across his chest.  
He caught Clint's eye, and Clint just shrugged.

His only lead exhausted, he sighed. The rest began to trickle out, and to their rooms.

"Better get comfortable, Rogers. She'll probably kill you if you try to wake her up." Tony snorted as he walked past them to the door.

And unexpectedly clear voice came from Natasha;  
"Shut it, Stark. You're ruining the moment."

Steve looked down at her in disbelief.  
Her eyes flicked open to meet his and a cheeky smile curled at her lips.

* * *

A/N: I have a soft spot for Steve, and a softer spot for embarrassing him.

I love to hear your thoughts!

- ACG


End file.
